


Dimissor Peccatorum

by SisterPuce



Category: Sleepy Hollow (TV)
Genre: Aches and pains, Gen, Henry Parrish - Freeform, Mention of Ichabod Crane, Non-sexual, Sin eating, Syrup of Ipecac, Vomiting
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-11-13
Updated: 2013-11-13
Packaged: 2018-01-01 10:16:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 598
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1043634
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SisterPuce/pseuds/SisterPuce
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Henry Parrish after the events of episode 1x06. Please R&R. (No, really. Do it).</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Anima Expurgare

**Author's Note:**

> Most of these chapters will be short. I do intend to write more if inspired.

" **S** yrup of Ipecac" is what the rather old bottle read that Parrish held in the dimly lit bathroom of apartment 306. He shut the medicine cabinet door, poured a small amount into a teaspoon, and stared at it for the longest time.

It had been 2 hours since he had ingested the ink black blood of the horseman. A pure and powerful sin the likes of which he had never taken. A taste of death itself. His body immediately bore its weight. The only thing that ever proved to help was to induce vomiting so that's what he was going to do. But he no longer could simply stick a finger down the back of his throat.

Henry has been through this step many times with the sins he had eaten in the past. It was the only way he could feel better. Resolutely, Parrish swallowed the foul emetic, then rinsed the spoon off in the sink. It would take a while for the Ipecac to work so in the mean time, Henry went into the kitchen to make a strong kettle of peppermint tea.

The yeasted bread that he had brought with him to soak up the blood sat on the counter, wrapped in a cloth. He baked it himself and used to make shortbread-like funeral cakes with caraway seeds to take on his travels. But that was back when he cared more about the ritual.

Henry went into his bedroom and replaced his comforter with the electrical blanket that he kept in the closet, then he placed some more pillows before fetching a trash can to place at the side of the bed. Two years had passed since he had gone through the old routine.

But now it had all begun again.


	2. Spec Dulcis

The next morning, Parrish awoke with a sore throat and belly. He had forgotten to remove his glasses in the night and had fallen asleep while listening to a CD. Sweat broke out in beads on his forehead, and he remembered leaving his electrical blanket on all night.

Sighing, he wiped his face and swung his legs over the edge of the bed to get up but decided to fall back. It was as if he hadn't gotten a wink of sleep. And it suddenly hit him. The weight on his soul. Just like it did every morning after he had taken a sin upon himself.

How many sins were his that he had not committed? Thousands. Almost more than he could bear. He was awash with the blackness of sin and with no hope for absolution. Dark thoughts crept through his every dream, stalking his every action. No one thing could set his mind at ease. There was no transgression against God that he had not seen nor felt and been overwhelmed by, or so he believed. There was once, when he thought he must be doing the work for God, and it gave him some comfort. But as time passed, Henry grew more and more unsure of his purpose in life. And he feared most that he would never go into heaven himself such as he had aided so many to do so before him. That he would be dragged into hell despite what goodness he had left. But beyond all doubt, Henry Parrish was convinced that meeting Crane was his destiny in life and it had given him meaning. Ichabod Crane. A man who had risen from the dead and held the world's fate in his hands. There was a reason to get out of bed. And so Henry did.


End file.
